


Voia este în tine-Where there’s a will there’s a way

by LeafontheWinf2



Series: The Changeling Verse [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Demon, Eventual Happy Ending, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Magical Realism, No Fluff, Psychological Torture, Sort Of, Vampires, dragon - Freeform, strigoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafontheWinf2/pseuds/LeafontheWinf2
Summary: James Barnes falls from a train, and Hydra tries to create their perfect monster. Except Barnes has magic in his veins, and it will not falter. No matter what they try, he will not loose himself.OR the interlude where Bucky becomes the Winter Soldier before we get to the Avengers arc.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This took me forever to actually finish. I rewrote what Hydra did to Bucky about six times before settling on this version and I’m pretty happy with it. 
> 
> This is mostly going to be from the point of view from various Hydra agents because that gives more of an insight to what is happening than if I just did it in Bucky’s POV. He’ll still be included, but not as much.

July, 1946

Out of all of Zola’s test subjects, only one had survived the procedure to create a new breed of super soldiers. The American had been listed in the doctor’s notes had something special inside of him that allowed him to thrive with the serum where the others went mad before dying horribly. But looking at the American right now, Petrov could not understand what Zola had seen. 

Sure, the American was supposed to be handsome, the perfect example of manhood that rivaled the Captain he had faithfully served. But whatever human perfection Hydra had created was gone as the American lay there unmoving and insensible from the pain of losing his arm. The bloody stump was a mess of shattered bone and strips of flesh barely hanging on past the shoulder blade, and already the other scientists had discussed slicing off the remaining flesh to prevent rot and disease. 

Petrov really didn’t care either way. After spending months tending to the American whose mind had been lost to fever, he was fine with the man just dying already so Petrov could move on to create a better future Asset than this cripple. Seriously, all the American did was whine for his Captain and babble about a girl named Sive back in America who had to be kept safe and it was so sickening that Petrov could feel his teeth rotting with each babbled word. 

It would be oh so simple to just break the American down. A word about how Hydra had killed the pretty girl nice and slow, or taken her as a hostage would have the American bending to their will. Or even just admitting to the American that his Captain had been dead for nearly a year now would break the man into pieces as he realized no one was ever going to save him. But Zola had ordered them not to tell, not to admit the Captain was dead until their agents in New York could find this Sive person and force her in. He wanted a measure of control before challenging the American’s view of the world. 

“Except you don’t even know what’s happening around you,” Petrov spat at the American even as he tended to the stump of the arm, ignoring the sharp looks the others were giving him for talking at their experiment (another thing forbidden by Zola). “Completely cut off from the rest of the world by fever and madness.”

“Petrov,” Vasiliev warned, dark scowl crossing his face even as he continued making notes of ways to control the American.

Not that controlling the American would matter, seeing how he was going to die before long. “You know it doesn’t matter, he’s not there anymore,” Petrov snorted in disgust as he leaned in closer to check the tissues one last time for the night, “He won’t even here that Hydra was victorious and Captain America died months…”

Agonizing pain kept Petrov from finishing the sentence. He could only gurgle, lungs screaming for air as he stumbled back and away from that stable, hands scrambling at the metal, at the ground, at anything to help him as he collapsed to the floor in a heap of blood as he slowly suffocated next to the table. 

The lab had gone silent, the only sounds besides his death a low rumbling growl from the metal table where they had kept the American. The last thing Petrov saw before death took him was furiously glowing gold eyes and a bloody mouth snarling with too large canines. 

“Fuck,” Vasiliev whispered stepping away from the table with wide eyes, “What the fuck…”

Because the American, who had been limp and plaint since they had found him months ago, had just ripped out Petrov’s throat. With his teeth. 

It had been so fast, Petrov leaning down close to the American shooting his mouth and the second he said the Captain had died the American had turned into a snarling monster with snapping teeth. Zola hadn’t warned them about this. No one had warned them that the American could do this! How was Vasiliev supposed to control a man who could kill so easily while on the verge of death? How would they keep him under control when the American was back in full health. 

“Get a message to Zola,” Vasiliev managed to order, refusing to recognize how his voice was trembling, “Tell him there’s been a complication.” The lab assistants were only too happy to flee the room and get away from Petrov’s rapidly cooling corpse. 

(Lying on the cold metal table, Bucky let his head loll away from the scientists. Every part of him hurt, even his eyelashes which he’d never thought possible. Agony had been pouring through him for months and he’d just been so thankful Steve wasn’t here, that his doll was safe somewhere waiting for Bucky to get back home…

So the here Steve was dead? That Bucky would never get to hold his love again and Hydra had won? Well, that was unacceptable. He was going to kill every last one of these fuckers for Steve then join his love in death when it was finished. With the scientists blood staining his lips, Bucky swore he would not rest until he’d avenged his Stevie.)

March 1958

“The Asset performed better than expected,” Genrich announced to Dr. Vasiliev after dropping the Asset back in containment. “He managed to take out the target with minimal fuss and without fighting back.”

Dr. Vasiliev, now head scientist for dealing with the Asset nodded jotting down notes. “So then the drug cocktail worked? It kept him compliant?” 

It had better keep the Asset complaint. The amount drugs they pumped into his system was ridiculous but the only thing that worked. Vasiliev had spent over ten years trying to use physical measures to force the American into the Asset. But no matter how they beat him, tortured him, starved him, the American had refused to break. No, instead he’d bided his time and managed to kill every single person they had sent in to break him. The drugs though had created the Asset. Pumping them into the Asset had created a strong addiction and he would do anything to get his dose once more. 

Even kill without question. The project was finally coming together. 

Genrich grimaced, “He was complaint...except…”

“Except what?”

“Except the dose we gave him after the kill wasn’t strong enough. He managed to kill another handler before we got him with two more doses to put him back down.”

The Asset was gaining a tolerance. That was...not good. The drugs had been the only thing that had worked so far and Zola refused to give up on turning the Asset into the perfect weapon. There had to be a way to make this work, Vasiliev knew that. If didn’t he had no doubt Zola would forcibly replace him, and he quite liked living. So he just had to figure out what that key was to force the Asset to comply. 

In the cell before them, the Asset was slumped over with drug glazed eyes that stared blankly at the wall. The silver of his metal arm broke the light streaming into the cell as he drooled in the drug haze but the Asset didn't move. Every now and then he would mumble “Sive” before going back into his stupor. 

“Refocus the teams in Brooklyn. They need to find this Sive girl and bring her here,” Vasilev ordered, “She’s the only thing that will reliably control the Asset.” Genrich grimaced again knowing like a Vasiliev that no one had even found a hint of a trail on the girl in over a decade, but also knowing they could not just kill the Asset and be done with it. Zola would never let them.

(Bucky loves when they pumped him full of drugs, loved when the pain in his arm stopped and everything began to float around him. Not because it took the pain away. Sure, that part was a relief but Bucky could deal with pain. No, the reason he loved the drugs was because they brought Steve back to him from the dead. It didn’t matter which Steve he got, small before the serum, the powerful Captain America, or Bucky’s pretty girl, he was just thankful to see his doll.

Right now Steve was curled up against his side, the red white and blue of his uniform too bright against the cell walls. “Steve,” Bucky slurred, relaxing further as Steve reached up to pet his hair with a sweet smile. 

“Just rest Buck,” Steve cooed, “I’ll be here when you wake up.” So Bucky allowed himself to shut his eyes and sleep, content in knowing that Steve would never leave him. Revenge against Hydra could wait. He just wanted to curl up with Steve for a little longer first.

Except when he woke up in pain, the drugs out of his system, Steve wasn’t there. And just like what happened every time Bucky came out of the drug haze, the rage at Hydra swelled because they had taken Steve away from him once again. This time, Bucky managed to kill six of them before they got him back down with the drugs.)

January 1963

When the drugs didn’t work, Vasiliev turned to the next option to control a man. He meticulously went over the notes they had taken on observations about the Asset and compiled them to create a profile for what would make the Asset behave. A young woman, rather slight with a willowy figure and no curves. Big blue eyes and blonde hair, cropped in a bob while wearing a conservative dress. A pretty little slip of a thing, that’s what Sive was, and agent Ivanova from Moscow was a dead ringer for what they needed. 

She’d willingly volunteered to work with the Asset for theming everything went smoothly. She just stood there a smiled while Vasiliev explained that if the Asset eliminated the target that would make her safer. The Asset, still slightly hazy from the drugs, had performed the mission perfectly. So they used her again and again sending the asset on mission after mission that ended in success. 

It was after the twenty seventh mission that the Asset started to get restless with being able to see Sive but not able to touch. So Vasiliev announced that if the mission was done in record time the Asset would get a night with Sive as a reward. 

It would be the fastest mission ever completed by the Asset until Hydra fell. 

And when he came back, he was sent to his cell to wait. Ivanova had done her makeup carefully to accentuate her eyes and put on a flowery perfume before undressing. Uncaring of her nakedness, she’d strutted into the cell before closing the door behind her leaving her locked in with the Asset. It didn’t take long to start hearing her cry out in the room, the newer guards blushing bright red. 

It did take exactly one minute and forty seven seconds for everyone to realize she wasn’t screaming from pleasure, but from pain. A mad race to the door had occurred as they tried to get into the cell to drag the Asset away but they weren’t able to get it. It took six men and a welding torch to break through, the whole time hearing Ivanova screaming in agony and an awful sucking sound leaving the room. Twenty second before the door collapsed the inside of the cell went quiet.

When the guards managed to get into the room, they were met with carnage. The fully dressed Asset stood in the center of the room with a snarl on his face covered in blood. Gore was caked onto the metal arm, flesh caught between the plates as the guards stared in horror at the remains of Ivanova cast throughout the cell.

“He dismembered her,” Gernich reported back to Vasiliev after they removed her corpse from the room, “Tore her body limb from limb with his bare hands before ripping off her head. That’s what we were hearing.” 

Vasiliev just stared at the closed cell door, too numb to feel horror yet. “Did the Asset explain why? Did he say anything at all?”

“He said that she wasn’t his Sive, that she was a trick. He knows Vasiliev, he knows we don’t have the girl. If he doesn’t get his girl, he’ll kill us all.”

Two days later they started looking at alternative methods of holding the Asset. Six months after that, they put him in cryo for the first time.

(Bucky had been promised he’d get Steve back. He’d seen his Stevie, all sweet and dressed up as Bucky’s best girl when he’d been sent out on missions to make the world safer for his doll. He’d already lost Steve once, he couldn’t do it again. He’d kill anyone to keep Steve safe.

When he’d been told Steve would be coming back to him that night, Bucky had been so happy. He’d get to hold Steve, kiss him and protect him from the world. The whole nightmare would be over with Steve back in his arms. Except it wasn’t Steve who walked into the cell. It was a stranger, someone wrong who sashayed into the cell before climbing into his lap with a sultry smirk. When the woman who looked like Steve But wasn’t, the imposter, leaned in to kiss him Bucky lost it. Not one but his mate would be allowed to touch him like that, no one but Steve would give him pleasure. The rage was so great that Bucky honestly blacked out and only came back to himself when the door was forced open and the imposter’s corpse was thrown about the room.

After that night, Bucky stopped seeing Steve. He grew surly, angry and managed to kill several of his handlers before they completed cryo and got him inside it. He’d been simmering with fury at the new treatment they were forcing on him, and he was already starting to plan what he could do to make them pay.

Or he had been until he was put under and started dreaming. Dreaming that he was back in Brooklyn, joking with Saoirse while Steve sat nice and pretty on his lap. Dreamed that there was no war and Steve could wear his wedding ring proudly. It was such a good dream, Bucky never wanted to wake up.)

April 1965

The Russian branch of Hydra broke free to create the Red Room. The only reason they were able to do so was because the relationship between the USSR and the US had deteriorated so badly that the American branch with Zola was unable to contact them. So they could pursue their own goals. 

And they toon the Asset with them. Zola never actually got his own hands on Bucky Barnes after WWII was over. (Bucky was still screaming inside his own mind, raging at what was being done even though they kept him from fighting back now. He was furious that they were denying him his opportunity to avenge his Steve.)

August 1968

They used the Chair for the first time because of the Prague Spring. The whole thing had originally seemed like it would wrap up quickly because how was Czechoslovakia supposed to stand against the USSR for any length of time?

But they were. And they looked they would win. 

So the Red Room deployed the Asset, using the Chair for the first time on a mission to fry it’s brain because drugs, torture, and sex didn’t work. Instead, they were left with a blank minded empty shell that followed orders like a puppet. Seriously, all they had to do was wipe the Asset and wind it up to go like a toy. It would just follow them, dumb to the world around it but willing to carry out any task. They had experimented by having the Asset execute enemies of the Red Room in controlled environments but never released him out into the field. 

“It should work,” Vasiliev told his new apprentice, Lunkin. The young man had a bright mind, but Vasiliev would not have him repeat earlier mistakes and undue the whole process to create the Asset. “But be careful not to use the Chair too much. We tried that with drugs and it built up an tolerance.”

Lunkin just stared at him. “You think the Asset will build up a tolerance for being wiped?”

“If it’s done enough times? Yes, I do.”

Still, the Asset was deployed and everything went well. It hunted down the leaders of the movement, following to their homes and figuring out their weak spots. It didn’t take the Asset long to recognize and follow loved ones and family members of the targets, creating a clear timeline of who needed to be killed when in order for the mission to be carried out smoothly. The mission was going well. 

Or it was until it suddenly didn’t. 

The Asset started malfunctioning on the third day. It had been tracking Dubcek in the hopes that taking him out would end things when things went wrong. The Asset started to shake its head, muttering darkly under its breath as it paced restlessly in the apartment the handlers were holding it in. When the Asset crawled under the bed and refused to get out, they called back into the Red Room to figure out what they were supposed to do to force it to comply. 

That had been the opportunity that Asset had been waiting for, all the handlers with their backs turned yelling into the phones. It had exploded out from under the bed, knife in hand, and killed each and every handler in the room before escaping. The Red Room heard the entire slaughter and sent out agents to retrieve the Asset and bring it back. 

They had expected the Asset would try to head to America, back to Brooklyn where it had first come from. But it was picked up by their agents in Hungary who had managed to find the Asset on its way south east. They had brought it back to Russia where Vasiliev had wiped the Asset before putting it back into cryofreeze. 

“Where was it going?” Lunkin wondered after the Asset had fully frozen. No one had been able to answer. But they did have a new procedure after that mission. The Asset could only be out for seventy two hours total before needing a wipe, and should never receive more than three wipes before being refrozen. Anymore than that and they risked the Asset getting free. They could not lose their weapon. Not yet.

(The mission had knocked Bucky back into control for the first time in years. Hearing people calling for change, watching them protest peacefully, it had rekindled Bucky’s need to resist. He had just watched, tracking people and recording their movements, but mostly watching the crowds in awe of their refusal to bow. 

There had been a boy, a slip of a thing with bright blue eyes and sunshine hair. He’d been a student, Bucky remembered finding that out, with a face that was too round and a nose too small. He’d been peacefully protesting with his friends when the Red Army opened fire.

Bucky watched him die a slow death as he drowned in his own blood. That night he escaped Hydra and ran far and fast to get away. He’d known is his bones where to go, to head down towards Romania and back into the land of his ancestors. It had been a mad dash and Bucky had been so close when they had caught him and dragged him back into hell.

The only consolation for being back was when Bucky was put in cryptic, he dreamed that he was back with Stevie.)

1975

The Asset was not stable. Vasiliev had known it, Lunkin knew it, every single person in the Red Room knew it. So they tried to create a new Asset, a better one to replace their monster who watched them with vengeful eyes when it wasn’t wiped quickly enough. So they brought in five loyal candidates and started to train them to replace the Asset. 

The Wolf Pack as they were called were far more efficient. They were quicker, more ruthless, and less likely to turn around and snap the neck of their handlers. They did not argue back when left out too long, they didn’t snap and snarl at anything and everything. And they did not kill their rewards when they were given them. 

Lunkin was already planning on getting them prepared to replace the Asset. It would just be easier to retire it, to let it fade into history as a failed first attempt as they did better in the future. All that was needed for the final step was to introduce Zola’s formula. 

The procedure was scheduled when the Asset was in cryo. The plan was to introduce the serum while bringing the Asset out of cryo as a safety precaution. Because yes, the Wolf Pack should perform better than the Asset.

But the Asset shouldn't have broke in the first place. The Asset should have been perfect, the single greatest weapon Hydra ever found. It shouldn’t have fought them at every step, furious and determined to achieve some half forgotten goal it constantly searched for. None of this should have happened, so the backup was needed. 

The procedure for the Wolf Pack was scheduled for shortly after the Asset had been removed from cryo and all five of them willingly received them serum Zola had developed. It was supposed to make them stronger faster, more deadly. More powerful than the Asset. But it didn’t. It did nothing for any of them. They were just the same as when they sat for the procedure. 

So the scientists returned to try and figure out just what had made the Asset into...the Asset. They ran it through tests and obstacle courses in ways they hadn’t since the late 50s. They forced it to the edge of its endurance and studied each muscle but could not produce results. They just couldn't find anything. 

Savin, one of the newer scientists, had decided to look at the Asset’s blood to figure out what the difference was instead of looking at the appearance of endurance. (No one questioned Zola’s serum, they were convinced it could not be wrong) He took sample after sample, studying them under slide and looking for anything that was new of different. 

After a month of studying blood, he found it. A slight discrepancy in the Asset’s blood that wasn’t there in the Wolf Pack. Just...something bizarre that Savin could not account for. It wasn’t the serum, because that showed up in all the blood. It simply was unique. So he took it to Lunkin and explained that there was no way to replicate what was in the Asset’s blood. 

“We just don’t know what it is,” Savin explained showing the results of the latest slide, “We’ve tried to replicate it, but nothing produces the same results. I think it’s only in the Asset’s blood.”

Lunkin glared at the results, “What do you think then? How do we fix this?”

“Introduce the Asset’s blood into the Wolf Pack. See what it does,” Savin shrugged, “If it kills them, we can always start over again.”

And that was that. The next day they pulled the Asset out, drew its blood, and put it into their soldiers. This time the serum worked. The Wolf Pack was smarter, faster, stronger, everything Hydra wanted. They could match the Asset blow for blow in one on one combat, and take the Asset down when they fought together. 

It was their greatest success, far better than the half feral Asset. The Wolf Pack completed missions without questioning orders. They didn’t kill their handlers. They didn’t have a time limit on how long they could be out. They performed perfectly. Except…

Except there was something starting to go wrong with the Wolf Pack. On one mission they just stopped and stared at the corpse of their victim until they were cleared out by their handlers. The next mission they tried to cover themselves in blood, the one after that they were sniffing the body. They seemed to be obsessed with blood, circling and watching constantly when blood was spilt. Two months after they introduce the Asset’s blood to the Wolf Pack, a handler stumbled in to see them biting at the corpse of their latest victim with loud sucking noises. When the handler tried to pull them off, the Wolf Pack fought back and had to be sedated to be taken out of the building. 

Savin, when questioned, had no idea what went wrong. “This shouldn’t be happening,” he insisted, “There is something just...wrong about them. The Asset’s blood did something and I can’t figure out what it was.”

Lunkin just sighed, exhausted by another failure that should have been a success and ordered the Wolf Pack be put away. They weren’t to be killed, because whatever had happened might one day be revered, but they were a bigger liability now than the Asset had ever been. So they were all forced back into cryo and Asset brought back out of retirement. It was still functioning the same, they could use that. 

Lunkin decided to just rely on it instead. The Asset may not have been a complete success, but it could still accomplish things. That was enough for now, they would try to make it better later on. 

(In cryo, the Asset dreamed. He was back in Brooklyn, back to being Bucky with his smile and two arms, sitting on a lumpy couch in a shifty apartment. Steve, beautiful smiling Steve, was curled in his lap in that lazy way people who were in love managed. The loose limbed sprawl when you trusted someone to always catch you which Bucky had only achieved with Steve. 

His great grandfather was also there in the dream, lounging on the other side of the couch as they had another lesson. Never let those unworthy take your blood, great grandfather warned, it will twist them. They will become monsters, obsessed with blood, and turn their backs on humanity. They will become more than human, but it will be a perversion if what our family truly is. 

Bucky just nodded, wondering if Steve counted as being worthy. If Bucky’s blood would cure a crooked back, bad heart, and failing lungs. He wanted to offer, wanted to give his love a life without pain. But Steve refused, kissing Bucky’s jaw while great grandfather watched with ancient eyes, whispering that he didn’t need Bucky’s blood to live a life truly without pain. 

And as he slept in cryo, Bucky smiled. Smiled as he dreamed of the only person who would have been worthy to carry his blood resting trustingly against his chest.)

1984

When the Asset was sent to Romania, all the kinks seemed to be worked out of the system. They knew how much electricity to send through the chair, knew how to keep the Asset docile and quiet as it entered and exited cryo. No handlers had been killed in eight years so Hydra knew everything was going right with their weapon. 

So Lunkin agreed to send out the Asset on another mission. Ceaușescu, who had been leading Romania for decades, had always ignored the Soviets and done his own thing. He had pushed the boundaries of what was and was not allowed in behind the Iron Curtain but always managed to fall just far enough in line that there were no major repercussions. But now Ceaușescu was pushing the boundary again so the Red Room was being sent in to take out one of his supporters to send a message.

No matter how far from Moscow you were, the Red Room could always reach you. 

So the Asset was sent out, hunting down someone high enough to send a message but not high enough to create an international incident. There were three potential targets and the Asset was to take out one of them at the first opportunity before the kill when they would retreat and leave. 

The flight landed in București and the handlers quickly ushered the Asset off the plane and into a small apartment that looked over the Dâmbovița, the perfect place for the Asset to sneak in and out of. The handlers were quick to figure out a plan on how to approach the targets knowing each second they spent was another second closer to the Asset malfunctioning. Already the Asset had paused to stare after a slight girl with pale hair, which the handlers had already been warned was the Asset's type so they had quickly steered it away from the girl. But it was an unneeded warning of how quickly things could go wrong with the Asset. 

Which was why they sent out Evanoff with the Asset when it was sent out to hunt that night. He hadn’t been pleased to go, but Breznin and Orlov were not capable of keeping up with the Asset so there really hadn't been much argument about leaving. Which of course left the other two alone in the room playing cards while Evanoff herded the Asset put the front door. 

“We should find that girl,” Orlov muttered while carefully putting his cards down. “The blonde one.”

Breznin just desperately wished he could drink right now but was nervous that the Asset would start malfunctioning if he cracked open the vodka. “Why?”

“As a reward for the Asset. Give her to him for finishing the mission.” Orlov drew another card. “I’ve helped clean the damn thing up, it’s definitely got the working parts.”

“They tried that, long time ago. Asset ripped the woman apart when she was sent in as a reward.”

“No shit? Well fuck. Why’s it looking at those girls then?”

“Who knows why it does anything.” Breznin snorted as he set his cards down. “With the amount of electricity it gets zapped with, this could be a side effect.”

“Having a type then killing them?”

“Well. Yeah. It’s screwy.”

Orlov opened his mouth because frankly he’d be fine to find the pretty little thing and have his own reward when the apartment door slammed open letting Evanoff come stumbling into the room. He looked terrified, eyes wide and face too pale as he stared at the pair just relaxing on one of the beds. “Someone took the Asset.”

Breznin huffed. “Doesn’t matter. It’ll just kill them and escape. Done it before.”

Evanoff’s eyes got impossibly wider. “This had happened before!?”

“It’s take out police plenty of times before, don't worry.”

“This wasn’t the police!”

“Special forces, same thing.”

“It wasn’t any of those things, it was taken by something that was not human!”

“What!?” That was clearly not possible, it had to be taken by something human. There were no other options.

Except there was, Evanoff explained furiously, and it was clearly inhuman. They’d been tracking a target when something had just appeared out of an alleyway. It looked like a man, walked like a man, but clearly was not one. Not when his eyes were glowing gold and his teeth were sharp and pointed. 

“Iacov, my dear boy,” the thing had called and it felt like the walls trembled from his voice, “You have come home.”

The Asset had whispered “great grandfather” and stumbled forward before Evanoff could react. It had collapsed into the thing’s arms before the darkness swallowed them whole. Evanoff had finally reacted, searching the alleyway but finding no sight of the thing or the Asset. He’d then spent the next hour searching the city before giving up and returning to the apartment to warn them something not human was out there. 

And here’s the thing. Most people would hear the story and dismiss it. They would state it had to be human and move on with their lives. But not there three because they were part of Hydra. And Hydra believed in the occult, they had never truly stopped. So something inhuman stealing their Asset? Totally believable. But that still left them without an Asset, something they needed to resolve.

Orlov was the one to call in a few questions, making up excuses about strange things they had seen. The scientists responded by letting him know where to look and what to look at in order to figure out what magical creatures they encountered and how to subdue them which he wrote down. Breznin called in later asking about how magical creatures could be created and wrote those answers down. Evanoff was the one to go through both sets of notes and figured out what creature they could easily create and control. 

A demon. Easier to make than you think. Just take a person and drag them to land soaked by blood in pain and suffering. Make the person bleed and scream while they died, bury them in the bloody soil for seven days and seven nights and it would rise again. Because demons were made out of fear, pain, and time. And the three of them could manage that by calling in an lying about the Asset escaping. 

Breznin was the one to grab their sacrifice: a young college student, rushing home through the alleys in the dark. He dragged her kicking and screaming into the van Orlav was driving leaving her in the back. Breznin and Evanoff started cutting into her with knives, carving sigils into her flesh and bones. It was hardest to peel back the muscle and skin to carve directly into her ribs. The girl screamed and cried and begged for mercy the entire time they tortured her during the drive deep into what was once Transnistria.

Records from Hydra gave the location of massacre deep in the forest, and they managed to find it. Breznin and Evanoff dug a shallow grave while Orlav took a stone that had been soaking in their blood and carved in directions for the new demon to listen and obey Hydra no matter what. None of them paid much attention to the sobbing girl as they worked. All her limbs were broken, there was no reason for them to watch her. 

When the grave was dug, they turned back to her. Orlav shoved the stone down the screaming girls throat before the three dragged her over to the grave and threw her in. She was too weak to escape as they buried her before setting in to wait for her to rise after seven days and nights had passed. 

It shouldn’t have worked. The girl should have just died, not risen as a demon because you cannot create demons like that. But magic is two parts belief and one part power, and the three of them managed to believe enough that it actually managed to work. They created a demon. 

So when the moon set on the last night, the demon rose from the ground with blank eyes and silence. When ordered, it shifted into the form of the Asset, metal arm and all before following them back to the truck. When they reached Moscow, the demon was still silent and blindly following orders. It was the perfect weapon now, and Lunkin was delighted. His weapon worked perfectly now. Everything was as it should be.

The three handlers were given a promotion and did not tell anyone what had happened. It wouldn’t be until 2014 that someone realized it was a demon, and not James Barnes. But that was a long way off. 

(The demon had a name. Maricara, a nice strong name. She had been studying nursing at school and wanted to help people. She never wanted to be tortured and murdered only to rise again. She’d been a good girl, secretly Catholic in a country with no recognized religion, and now she was damned for eternity because of the greed and selfishness of men. 

Right now Maricara was just heartbroken, crying in the depths of the tattered remains of her soul. But demons are not built from sadness, they are instead built of rage and vengeance and Maricara was slowly learning that. Her hatred and need to end Hydra was there and growing by the day, only kept down by the stone in her belly.

But Hydra did not know her name. The men had never asked or even wanted to learn it. And everyone knows true names have power. So if Maricara could get her true name to someone else, they would manage to overpower the stone and she could take her revenge. 

She just had to be patient. And demons were also built for patience.)

1985

The Asset walked into the room, docile. No threat, no fight. No demands for blue eyes and sunshine hair. Just an empty stare as it took in the small girls gathered before it in their matching ballet outfits. 

“These are the Black Widows,” Lunkin announced, “You will prepare them for the field.”

The Asset nodded, expression blank. (Inside, buried deep deep down under a blood soaked stone, Maricara screamed in rage at the command but was unable to disobey.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing says happy Friday like supernatural shenanigans between an ancient vampire and a witch.

When James fell from the train, Vlad did not feel it. Oh, he knew his great grandson was in trouble, that he could feel. But Iacov (he refused to call one of his own Bucky) was fighting in a war so he was always in trouble. No, Vlad first realized something was wrong when Winifred called to him from across the sea and dragged Vlad out of Romania and back into Brooklyn. 

“My son,” Winifred whispered, tears staining her face as she clung to Vlad when he appeared, “They say my son is dead…grandfather is my boy dead?” She was a mess, makeup smeared down her cheeks and hair an absolute mess. George didn’t look much better as he hovered behind, hands wringing as he watched Winifred tangle her fingers in Vlad’s coat. The girls were gathered as well, pale faces wet with tears as they held their breaths. His family, his descendants. Grieving. 

So Vlad did not hesitate to gently chuck Winifred under her chin with a fatherly smile. “He is alive, my dear girl.”

Winifred collapsed in relief, sobbing in delight as George quickly threw himself down beside her for a hug. Grace and Abigail were crying as well, but Becca’s face was unmoved. “The army said Bucky is dead,” Becca muttered dully.

“The army does not know everything.” Vlad stepped forward, gently grasping his great granddaughter by the back of her head to press their foreheads together. “You are all my family, and I can feel each one of your precious hearts beating in my bones. And I can still feel your brother. He’s alive my dear girl.”

Only then did Becca’s expression crack. “Then where is he? Where’s my brother?”

“I don’t know. But I will find out.”

So Vlad went back home and began to search. He looked through the battlefields surrounding Romania first, knowing he would have felt it if his boy walked onto Vlad’s land. When nothing turned up, Vlad expanded his search into other areas in the off chance he would find some hint about his Iacov. 

It was when he was studying a battle sight near the Black Forest that he got another summoning from Winifred that sent Vlad back to her once more. She had been patient for months waiting for news of her son, and Vlad was impressed she waited that long because worried mothers were not known for their calm. So Vlad made sure he was the one to speak first when he appeared in Brooklyn once again. “I am still searching Winni…”

“Have you seen Steven?” Winifred demanded, panic clear on her face as grabbed for him again. “Bucky’s Steve?”

Vlad...had not been aware Steve had left Brooklyn. He could have sworn his great grandson had been determined to keep his mate as far away from war as possible. “He went to war? Bucky allowed this?”

“Bucky wasn’t here to stop him, and he sure didn’t warn me about his plan,” Winifred snapped before her expression crumpled again, “Grandfather, please. Have you heard any news of Captain America while you searched?”

“Steve’s Captain America? But he’s Irish! And tiny!”

A harsh snort from the couch caught Vlad’s attention and he turned to stare. “No one cared much for that when he went to war.” Saoirse, Steve’s cousin and Macha’s granddaughter, was sitting primly on the couch. Her back was straight even though her eyes and nose were red from recent crying. “They didn’t care much for a lot of things that made Steve when he went to fight their war.”

Vlad wanted to reach and out offer comfort, but knew she would not take it. Saoirse was too sharp to accept his comfort. “What happened to Steve?”

“Don’t know,” a mirthless laugh left Saoirse, one tinged with the madness of grief, “They sent me a letter in the mail saying Steve died, but that’s it. Everything else is still classified.” An angry sob left her as she shoved herself to her feet. “They won’t even tell me what happened to him!”

This time Vlad did reach out, gently grabbing her elbow. “I will look into it,” Vlad promised, “If I find anything I will tell you.”

Saoirse nodded before pulling free and stumbling out of the apartment. Vlad was left alone with Winifred whose face was lined with grief. “Winnie…”

“Steve’s mine, just as much as Bucky is,” Winifred snapped with tears running under her voice, “I raised that boy after his mother died, and even if no government will recognize it Steve is my son-in-law and I won’t lose him too.” Her voice cracked as tears welled up in her eyes. “I can’t lose him, grandfather...Bucky’s my boy but Steve was always gentle child…”

It took everything in Vlad not to respond to Winifred saying Steve Rogers was gentle. The boy had been made of fire and steel when Vlad met him, a rightful heir to a war goddess but he would not correct a grieving mother. Especially when he had been unable to find her missing son.

“I will keep an eye out for any news on Steve, and I will find Iacov,” Vlad kisses her forehead, “You have my word.”

He returned to Europe which was still drowning in blood even if the constant stream was beginning to dry. Vlad had been trying to keep his people safe all through the war, taking those who still believed and hiding them as best he could (as a true king should) but he couldn't save all of his people. Throughout it all, he searched and listened for his boys as he roamed a continent filling with refugees. 

And the spirits who guarded the refugees were all too happy to help Vlad. When he met them, they spoke of his boys. Of how the Captain had fought for what was right with Catha magic singing in his veins as he tried to save everyone and how the Sergeant guarded him with draconic instincts. They tried to save us all, the spirits admitted, they didn’t always succeed. But they tried, and that was enough. 

Vlad was proud of his boys, he truly was. He would just be prouder when he found Steve’s body which no one could find and brought Iacov home where he belonged. (He feared Iacov would feel his mate’s death and give into grief, let himself die to return to Steve’s side.) For months Vlad heard nothing. 

Until the war officially ended and the US government announced that Captain America had fallen in the line of duty by crashing a plane into the Arctic to save the East Coast from atomic bombs. Vlad had no idea what atomic bombs were, neither did anyone else he spoke to. 

(They learned months later when two were dropped on Japan and Vlad despaired for Steve because how was the poor boy supposed to survive that?)

Winifred summoned Vlad once again. It was on the day Washington DC was burying an empty casket in Arlington, but all of Brooklyn was in the streets mourning their fallen son. When he returned to Brooklyn for Steve’s wake, Vlad was met with the entire neighborhood in mourning. Saoirse was a shell of her former self as she leaned against Abigail, both dressed in black. Winifred was crying silently as person after person came up to the family to offer their condolences and a story of her boys and it was only Vlad and George who kept her standing. 

“Where are their brother in arms,” Vlad asked Saoirse when he found her trying to drown in whisky. 

Saoirse took another long swig. “In DC, they were ordered to attend the funeral.”

“Ordered?”

“They wanted to be here. With us. Mourning in the proper way. The president wouldn’t let them,” Saoirse sneered at the thought, “They’re coming up tomorrow to meet with us. I don’t know what I should say to them.”

Vlad didn’t know either. Which was why he left that night after the wake, because how could he face those soldiers when Iacov was still out there and Steve’s body was somewhere in the ice? So Vlad kept looking. He searched for years, returning every now and then to keep his family in America updated. No rock was left unturned, no lead unfollowed, it was like Vlad was hunting a ghost. 

But all hunts have an end eventually, and Vlad’s ended in 1984. He felt it in his bones when Iacov wandered into Romania. Vlad gathered his magic and waited, stalking the party to determine what he would do to grab his boy and flee. During the wait Vlad realized something was horribly wrong with his great grandson. Iacov stumbled along like a ghost, empty eyed as he studied the people around him. It was like everything that had made his grandson had been ripped out to leave this shell behind. 

But there was hope. Already Vlad could see his great grandson studying every blonde head of hair for his missing mate. The people leading Iacov only noticed when he stared at the girls, but Vlad was smarter. He saw how Iacov also stared at the boys in the hopes that one was his mate. No matter how often he was disappointed, he always looked again. 

Vlad could work with that. As long as Iacov searched for Steve, he could still reach the boy. 

So Vlad gathered his powers and waited. He watched as Iacov left a rundown apartment with one of the men and walked into old town, where the magic in București was the strongest and then he struck. He reached forward to grab his kin and dragged Iacov through the shadows until they were far out of reach from the men who had held his great grandson. Vlad only re-emerged when they were safely in his house far away from București hidden deep in the mountains. 

Iacov collapsed to the ground when the shadows rescinded, whimpering in pain as he curled into himself like a wounded animal. Vlad knelt before his boy, mournfully taking in the too thin frame and metal arm. “Child, what did they do to you?”

Iacov just let out a pained sounding moan, shaking with fear or cold or a combination of both. He didn’t seem aware of his great grandfather even as Vlad gently gathered Iacov into his arms to lay him on the bed. Iacov just muttered nonsensically to himself as Vlad settled the sheets around him. 

For two days Iacov just shook apart. He did not eat or drink, just moaned in agony as his mind slowly started to piece itself together. On the third day, Iacov stopped trembling and instead began to scream. It was from many things, nightmares and pain and fear and the despair of knowing what he had done. The boy (Vlad could not see him as a man right then) was constantly hysterical, clinging to Vlad’s sleeve and begging forgiveness to crimes that he had not willingly committed. 

Vlad held him through them all, hushing Iacov gently while internally swearing to destroy the Red Room when his boy was better. Slowly, painfully slowly, Iacov remembered to be human once more. He ate and drank without prompting, started speaking in full sentences and Vlad was beginning to have faith that his great grandson would return. So eventually Vlad informed him that he would return to Brooklyn to tell his family Iacov had finally been found (Vlad would not mention he had waited a year for fear of Iacov dying, because Winifred would kill him.)

Iacov was stunned by the news. “They’re still waiting for me? After all this time?”

“Of course, they never gave up hope,” Vlad grinned as Iacov absentmindedly helped himself to more food. “I knew you were still alive, I could feel it.”

“My magic,” Iacov grinned. He was always so pleased when they talked about his magic and the fact that it had strengthened after his time under the Red Room. The dragon was closer to the surface than ever before, helping to heal Iacov. “Saoirse never put much faith in it.” His face twisted up in displeasure. “I guess I have to thank her.”

“What for?”

“What else? Looking after Stevie until I was well enough to come get him. I wasn’t supposed to leave him, let alone for this long.”

The food Vlad had been eating turned to ash in his mouth. He put the silverware down slowly happy for just the slightest delay. “Iacov...Saoirse...she can’t look after Steve.”

Iacov snorted, “Yeah, I know. He doesn’t want us to call it that says he can look after himself.”

“No, grandson. Thanks not what I meant.” It was time to get this over with. Vlad braced himself for the coming explosion. “Steve is dead.”

Every muscle in Iacov went tense, “What.”

“He died in the war crashing a plane in the Arctic. He saved thousands of people but...no one has been able to find his body.” That was the hardest part. The lack of a body to mourn over. Winifred hated the thought of one of her boys rotting alone in the cold with no one to look after them and Vlad understood. There was a reason why people had funerals after all. “I’m so sorry.”

That was when Iacov exploded. He screamed, voice cracking as furious tears spilled down his face, breaking everything in sight as Vlad drifted out of range to let his boy mourn. For two weeks Iacov just raged and destroyed everything he could, tearing cloth and smashing glass as the dragon released its grief at being unable to protect its mate from danger. Vlad understood, he had done the same thing when he lost his mate long ago. So he watched carefully as Iacov cursed every god he knew for taking Steve away from him. 

And when he ran out of strength, Vlad returned to his side. He pulled Iacov into a hug uncaring if the snot and tears. All strength was gone, even the metal arm just hung limp as Iacov wept. “They told me he died in the Red Room,” Iacov managed to get out, weeping into Vlad’s shoulder. “I didn’t believe them, they lied about so much that I thought they lied about that too…”

“Oh my poor boy,” Vlad kissed the crown of his head, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“I never...I was always looking for him. I always had to find my Stevie,” a pained moan left Iacov, “They tried to replace Steve once...I think I killed the imposter but I couldn’t find him after. It isn’t fair, none of it! They can’t take him away from me! We were supposed to be together after the war! How am I supposed to...I can’t do this without him…”

There was nothing Vlad could do but hold Iacov and offer him comfort. After the tears stopped Iacov became listless. He would just lie in bed and stare blankly at the ceiling. It wasn’t the haunted look he’d worn after being saved from Hydra and the Red Room, it was the look of a man broken because he’d lost the love of his life. The boy had just given up on living without his mate out there in the world. 

That was when Vlad went back across the sea and told Winifred he’d found her boy. He left out how long Iacov had been in his home because she did not need to know that, but did warn her that he was grieving Steve’s death and didn’t seem to be getting the slightest bit better. So Winifred packed up the Barnes clan (just the daughters and husband because the son-in-laws were to look after the children, understand?) and dragged them to Romania. Vlad met them at the airport in București with his car because he kept up with the times and drove them out to his home where Iacov was waiting. 

Winifred started sobbing when she got out of the car and saw her son standing there. George just held her, silent tears streaming down his face as the girls (they were no longer girls, women with children and great careers now) rushing forward to cling to their brother. And Iacov looked alive for the first time since he’d learned Steve was dead. Sure, his hair was lanky and stringy and heavy bags rested under his eyes, but he was moving and speaking as he stayed as close to his family as possible. They had a merry feast that night and Iacov laughed for the first time in years while everyone kept touching him to make sure he was real.

The first night back Winifred refused to leave his side and followed Iacov into his room. Vlad tried to give them their space but worried. Iacov still slipped into the dead eyed empty shell and no mother should see that. Which was why Vlad lingered just outside of the doorway to give them the illusion of privacy while mother and son talked about everything left behind. 

“The Commandos still come by to visit every now and then,” Winifred was murmuring, “They see us each summer and Saoirse...I know you two didn’t get on but she’s part of the family now Jamie love and we couldn’t leave her alone in the bar with…” Her voice trailed off and Vlad could picture the discomfort and grief on her face. 

“With Stevie dead,” Iacov’s voice broke, “They told me he was alive Ma, kept saying if I just did a bit more I’d get to see him again but he was gone the whole time.”

“Oh baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I can...sometimes it feels like he’s still alive.” Vlad straightened up at that. Iacov had never admitted to such a thing before and it was concerning that the magic in him could not accept Steve’s death after more than fifty years. “I can feel it at night, deep in my bones that he’s out there and I’m supposed to go find him but he’s dead so there’s nothing too find!”

“Except his body, we haven’t been able to bury him,” Winifred whispered, “Maybe that’s what you’re feeling.”

“Yeah, maybe.” But Iacov didn’t sound like he believed her. And he was just a little bit more listless when he met with his family during their stay. Vlad feared that when the Barnes’ went back to Brooklyn Iacov would crumble back into depression and fade away. 

Except that didn’t happen. Iacov drove his family to the airport after they had stayed for a month before returning home to Vlad with a new purpose to him. He walked silently through the house, eyes slightly gold as he came to stand beside his great grandfather as they overlooked the backyard. 

“I thought you would return with your parents,” Vlad murmured.

“I can’t face Brooklyn right now. It’s where we were happy together and I just...not yet,” Iacov did not sound broken as he spoke. For the first time in years he spoke with purpose, “I want to burn Hydra to the ground.”

Vlad turned to study him, “They could take you back if you are caught.”

“I don’t care. They took everything from me,” Iacov snarled, “They took Steve from me and I will make them pay! I will destroy all of them for that!”

A slow smile spread across Vlad’s face. He leaned over, clasping his great grandson’s arm in his own, “Then I will help you my boy. We will hunt them together.”

It is no surprise to those who know magic that the Soviet Union fell. It collapsed suddenly, seemingly overnight, and the mundane in the world did not truly understand what happened. But the magical communities? They knew the collapse was because the dragons were hunting. They were tearing through the land for their prey and the fall of the USSR was just a side effect of them destroying the Red Room. 

Now they were turning their attention to Hydra, slowly dragging it out to die across Europe. Head after head of Hydra was destroyed, some in secret and somewhere the world could see, and through it all the House of Dracul hunted together. They were efficient, powerful working side by side even if every now and then Iacov would just stop because he missed his mate too much. Vlad truly feared what would happen to his great grandson when they had finished with Hydra.

And then one day when they were relaxing back at home in a small local restaurant before the next hunt, the news came on the crappy tv behind the bar. Everyone was watching it in shock, eyes wide at the sight before them. Aliens were falling through a hole in the sky to attack New York. Magic and creatures they could handle, aliens not so much. But Iacov did not care about the aliens or the slowly growing panic. No. Vlad’s great grandson had only eyes for the man in red white and blue fighting in the middle of the battle with shield in hand. There was so much loved and adoration shining in his eyes as he watched Captain America fight.

That was when, years after saving his great grandson, Vlad finally believed that everything would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not think of a reason why Vlad wouldn’t tell Bucky’s family he’s okay so that’s why I included that bit. The reason no one knows that Steve is alive is because they have the wrong type of magic, so they can’t feel that he’s alive. 
> 
> Next interlude (cause I need more time to write, the end of the school year is throwing off my schedule) will be from Steve’s point of view on what happened under the ice.

**Author's Note:**

> The Wolf Pack if you couldn’t figure it out becomes strigoi basically. Bucky’s blood is what infects and changes them which is why they start drinking blood later on. It turned them more animalistic which is why they were frozen away.
> 
> Bucky is going to be saved by Vlad in the second chapter because I literally could not figure out a way around it. As a history major, I can’t see the Red Room letting Romania do whatever they want without interfering so the Winter Soldier got sent there. Then I had to question, would Vlad leave Bucky to Hydra, realized the answer was hell no and rescued him.
> 
> So Maricara is the new Winter Soldier because Hydra is equal parts arcane knowledge and thecnology and this universe focuses on the arcana more than the tech. So she’s the one who trains Natasha and does all the leftbover Winter Soldier stuff. It took a while before I could justify her, but now I have a literal demon to work with in Winter Soldier so this should be fun!


End file.
